


To Have and to Hold

by magneticdice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/M, M/M, mentions of bipolar disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret Santa gift to lolitasweeter, who wanted a four weddings and a funeral AU for her gift. It doesn’t totally follow the movie because I can’t imagine Mickey ever being comfortable enough to marry a guy (at least not in the near future, and not anyone other than Ian!!!), but I hope you still enjoy it! Merry Christmas :-D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, Ian and Mickey have not met in this ‘verse. They are 21 and 22, respectively, but the setting is still the present-day. Ian is bipolar, so warnings for that. Oh, and the prompt also asked for Mickey to be in a previous relationship, so consider this a warning for those of you who aren’t fans of it… This turned out way longer than it should have been. Like, seriously too long. Oops.

**Chapter 1:**

_The honor of your company is requested at the wedding of Ronald Kuzner and Jessica Reynolds on the Twenty-Second day of June. Ceremony at St. James Cathedral at Three in the Afternoon. Reception at the Park Hyatt Chicago to follow._

“Hurry up! Ron’ll kill me if I’m late!” Lip shouted at Ian as he barreled down the stairs of his childhood home.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Ian asked incredulously from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table for the last half hour, playing Candy Crush on his phone. “I’ve been ready and waiting for _your_ ass since two. Don’t you dare blame this on me,” he accused.

Lip visibly ignored him, too busy trying to figure out what the hell to do with the bowtie that had been part of his tuxedo rental. “Do you think Fiona would know how to tie this?”

Ian got up and impatiently pulled the black cloth out of his brother’s hands. “She left to go to the park with Liam twenty minutes ago,” he huffed, stuffing the bowtie into Lip’s pocket. “I’m sure one of the other guys will do it for you when we get to the church.”

“If we even get there in time,” Lip muttered.

“Relax. I’ll drive and you can look up how to tie the damned thing on YouTube.” He held his hand out for Lip’s keys and the older Gallagher reluctantly drew them out of his pocket and dropped them into Ian’s waiting palm.

Lip never let Ian drive his Mercedes. In fact, this was the first time his brother had handed him the keys since getting the car as a graduation present (from himself, to himself), and Ian took full advantage of being behind the wheel. He didn’t hold back, using the excuse of wanting to get to the church as quickly as possible to justify speeding. He was also grateful that Lip was too distracted with bowtie how-to videos to give him shit about it.

The weaving in and out of traffic must have paid off because they pulled up to the parking garage around the corner from the church just as the bridesmaids were getting out of their limo. They entered the church through a side entrance and ran into the nave. Ian found a seat in an empty pew on the groom’s side while Lip took his place by the altar beside his old roommate. Ron looked relieved to see his best man, which was better than the angry reaction Lip had expected, and gave him a hard clap on the back. The organ began playing just as Ian settled in, and everyone turned their heads towards the main doors as the bridesmaids began their walk down the aisle, one by one.

After the bridesmaids had all taken up their respective positions opposite the groomsmen, one of the cutest little girls Ian had ever seen ‒ even cuter than Kev and V’s twins ‒ walked down the aisle with her tiny, silk basket, placing pink flower petals onto the white runner in the daintiest way you could imagine, much to the delight of everyone in the church. When she finally made it to the end, the music changed and the guests all stood to gawk at the bride as she stepped forward.

Ian didn’t really have an opinion on girls, but he knew Jessica looked stunning. Her blonde hair was done up in a bun with crystal pins that sparkled through her veil, and her dress was a skin-tight sheath gown that left nothing to the imagination. He turned his head to see Ron’s reaction but was distracted by the look of sheer panic on his brother’s face. Lip was gently patting at his pockets, attempting to be casual about searching through them, but Ian could see the worry and urgency of his movements.

He raised an eyebrow at him and Lip held up a hand, pointing at his ring finger. It was with horror and a great sinking feeling in his gut that Ian realized his brother had forgotten the rings. He waited for the bride to finish her walk down the aisle and for everyone to sit down before he started asking around in a whisper, trying to see if anyone had an extra ring on them that they’d be willing to spare. He wasn’t having much luck, and Lip’s expression grew visibly more pained as they got closer and closer to the vows.

Ian quietly walked around the pews and crept along the outside aisle until he was close to his brother. He waved at Lip, motioning for him to come closer. He passed what he had managed to salvage to him and Lip cringed, but accepted the rings and hurried back to Ron’s side just in time for the priest to ask for the rings.

The rest of the ceremony went without a hitch and the Gallagher brothers were able to relax and enjoy the reception. The bride and groom posed for pictures beside the cake, Ron with his skull and crossbones ring and Jessica with her sparkly moodring that Ian had gotten off of Ron’s eight year-old niece.

Ian hadn’t really been to a lot of weddings... People from their neighborhood got married, but they didn’t have money to waste on over-the-top celebrations like this. Things for Lip had changed after college, once he and his roommate had sold their fancy robot to an engineering start-up company. Life had gotten a lot easier for the Gallaghers after that.

He spent most of the party watching the different people around him. He hadn’t expected to be invited to Ron’s wedding, but all those nights hanging out with him and Lip must have made them closer than he had thought. He was seated at a table with a lot of other single people, which was awkward as fuck. Lip came up to Ian while most of the people from his table were busy dancing and passed him a glass of wine. “Drink up, little bro. It’ll help you loosen up.”

“I don’t need to loosen up,” he complained. He looked at his brother sulkily but Lip was too busy smiling at one of the bridesmaids on the opposite side of the dance floor. “I’m not here to meet some random guy and hook up in the bathroom of the reception hall,” Ian told him, exasperated.

“Bathroom? Who said anything about the bathroom? That’s the great thing about this being a hotel,” Lip said, but his attention was still on the dark-skinned girl smiling right back at him.

Ian took a sip of the wine and scanned the room again. His eyes were drawn to a guy standing by the open bar, nursing what looked to be a glass of whiskey. He was in a black button-down shirt and tie, but had the sleeves rolled up to midway between his wrists and elbows, emphasizing his biceps and the muscles in his forearms. The whole look gave off a bad-ass vibe that made it nearly impossible for Ian to stop staring at.

“Hey, who’s that?” he asked quietly, nudging his brother’s side with his arm and nodding his head in the direction of the brunet at the bar.

Lip seemed to snap out of his flirt session just long enough to focus on the guy Ian had pointed out. “Oh, you don’t know Mickey?”

Ian shook his head.

“He was our dealer at school. Used to hook up Ron and me with all the best shit. But if you’re lookin’ to get high tonight, I’ve got you covered,” Lip added, pulling out a trio of joints from the pocket of his vest. “I may have forgotten the rings, but I didn’t forget the weed!” he joked, slipping one of the spliffs behind Ian’s ear before walking off in the direction of the bridesmaid.

Ian debated between finding someone he knew to start a conversation with and kill some time until the end of the reception or growing a pair and going up to the guy at the bar. He took the joint from behind his ear and rolled it in his fingers for a minute before making up his mind. He tucked the weed into his pocket and walked over to the bar, wine glass still in hand.

The bartender greeted him with a smile as he leaned against the mahogany counter. “I’ll have what he’s having,” Ian said to the tall blond while pointing to Mickey’s glass, “and you can have this crap back,” he added, sliding the wine glass to the other side of the bar. The blond nodded and poured him his drink, and Ian left a couple of singles for him in the tip glass. He chanced a glance at Mickey and fought the blush that threatened to redden his pale, Irish skin when he realized that the brunet was staring at him with a smile.

“Why’d you even bother taking the wine?” he asked with a smirk. “That shit’s always nasty.”

Ian cleared his throat before answering. “My brother brought it over… I don’t think he even cares what he’s drinking at this point, as long as there’s alcohol in it,” Ian said, pointing to Lip on the other side of the room. His brother was was making a fool of himself on the dance floor in a pathetic attempt to impress the bridesmaid he’d been eyeing… and it was _somehow_ working, if the smile on her face was any indication.

Mickey chuckled and shook his head. “Lip Gallagher’s your brother?”

It startled him for a second until he remembered that Lip had _just_ told him that Mickey was their dealer way-back-when. “Yeah… Older brother, but just by a year. Well, half brother, I guess, but that’s a long story…” He realized he was rambling and pressed his lips together tightly, but the brunet was still smiling. “I’m Ian,” he said, fighting the urge to stick his hand out for a shake. Instead, he busied himself with swirling the ice around in his glass before taking a small sip.

“Mickey,” the brunet said back, and even though Ian already knew that, he still nodded in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what else to say.

The panic set in about sixty seconds later, his nerves definitely getting the better of him. He hadn’t responded after Mickey had introduced himself, and the conversation had fallen into silence. He went through possible talking points in his head, trying to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot, but came up blank.

“Heard that Lip and Ron made a shit-ton of cash selling that robot of theirs,” Mickey said.

Ian heaved a great sigh of relief, not just at hearing Mickey’s gruff voice, but also at having the awkward silence broken.

Ian nodded again. “Yeah… Best thing that ever happened to him. He’s working for a new start-up now, based in New York. He wanted to hook me up with a job at the same company, said it would be a great opportunity, but working in an office isn’t really my thing. I can’t imagine having to sit at a desk and do the same shit over and over, day in and day out.”

“I hear ya there. Sounds like more of a death sentence than an opportunity,” Mickey grunted.

“Exactly!” he agreed. “So, uh, what do you do?” he asked.

Mickey opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the ringing sound of a knife being tapped on the side of a glass. The sound got louder as more people joined in, until the guests all quieted down and turned their attention to the source of the original tapping: Lip.

“Hello everyone,” Lip called over the low din. When nobody answered him, he repeated, “I _said_ , HELLO EVERYONE!” The guests all laughed and answered back a jumbled, “hello.”

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Lip. Some of you probably remember me as ‘Kuzner’s poor roommate’ or ‘the guy who built the robot with him’. Others might still refer to me as ‘the guy who stole Amanda,’ although, to be fair, none of us would be here if I had been able to keep it in my pants.” There was a mixture of laughing and gasping in reaction to Lip’s words (the gasping mainly from the older guests, and the laughing from everyone who knew them from college).

Ian watched as Lip turned to face Ron and Jessica. “Ron, buddy, you know I love you. You’ve been like a brother to me for the last four years, even getting me through all the crazy shit, and I’m so thankful to be your best man tonight. And Jess, I know I promised your new _husband_ I would never, ever speak to you directly for fear of bodily harm,” he said, and Ron exaggeratedly cracked his knuckles to everyone’s amusement, “but I think this is an important and necessary exception. I have to hand it to you guys for doing something I don’t have the balls to do. We all know that commitments aren’t my thing, but you’ve promised to love each other ‘until death do you part,’ which is a _long_ -ass fucking time, and I wish you all the best. So let’s all raise our glasses,” he raised his champagne flute and the rest of the guests followed suit, “to Ron and Jessica!”

“To Ron and Jessica!” everyone repeated.

Ian turned to Mickey and raised his glass, muttering a quiet “cheers” before taking a sip of the cold liquid and letting it ironically warm his throat on the way down. Ian watched Mickey follow suit, the corner of the brunet’s lips rising up in a crooked smirk before he, too, swallowed down the drink as part of the toast.

Ian was about to ask Mickey what he did for a living again when Lip came over and threw an arm over Ian’s shoulder.

“Ian, I’ve got some good news” he said with a loose grin, completely oblivious to Mickey’s presence. “Ron’s dad just gave me the keys to their lake house, so we’re heading up there after the party for an even better after-party. There’s space in the limo for us, so we’ll just leave the car here and pick it up tomorrow.”

“What about our room here?” Ian wondered. Lip had made such a huge deal about the benefits of staying at the hotel above the reception.

“It was only a couple hundred bucks. What’s the big deal? Now, a _lake house_ … that’s definitely worth it. I’ll find you in a couple of minutes when we’re ready to leave.” And with that, Lip disappeared again.

“So I take it you’re leaving soon?”

“Guess so…” Ian replied.

“That’s too bad. I’m staying upstairs…” Mickey told him, and Ian was sure his mouth was hanging open ever-so-slightly at the blatant come-on. “Figured it was worth it to not have to find a way home after the wedding. You know, it was either that or taking the L back to the South Side while drunk in the middle of the night.”

“Wait a second… You’re South Side?”

“Uhuh. Canaryville, born and raised,” Mickey answered with a shrug.

Ian was beyond surprised at that. “No shit…!” he said, eyes wide. How had they never met before? He wanted to ask Mickey more questions but he didn’t have a chance. Lip returned and practically dragged him away. Ian was able to throw a quick wave goodbye in Mickey’s direction before he was swept along by the eager bridal party train in his brother’s wake.

Ian soon found himself sitting in the corner of the ridiculously oversized limousine, wishing he was right back at the boring wedding reception he’d hated just an hour earlier. He tried not stare as his brother went at it with the bridesmaid from earlier, the pair making out like the other’s mouth held the secrets of the universe. They had only driven a couple of blocks when Ian changed his mind. He got the limo to stop and let him out. “I’ll come and pick you up from the house tomorrow morning,” he promised his brother, then quickly walked back to the hotel where the reception was being held.

When he entered the lobby, to his surprise, he spotted Mickey sitting at the hotel bar, nursing yet another drink. He went over and joined him.

“Though you were headed to the after-party?” he asked, motioning for the bartender to bring him another glass of the same thing for Ian.

“Yeah, well… It’s not exactly my thing,” Ian explained.

“Oh?” Mickey wondered, and his eyebrow rose to the middle of his forehead again. Ian stared into the brunet’s clear blue eyes, and could have sworn they actually twinkled when Mickey asked him, “so, uh, what exactly _is_ your thing?” suggestively.

Ian felt his cheeks grow read and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, not knowing how to answer. He’d never really had to flirt like this before. Most of his past relationships had consisted of sly come-ons by old, married men. No one his age had ever been as forward as Mickey.

“I… uh…”

“Oh, fuck,” Mickey breathed. He suddenly slid out of his seat and crept around the corner of the bar so that he was out of sight.

“Excuse me?” a short girl said a moment later, tapping Ian’s shoulder to get his attention. “Have you seen a guy named Mickey anywhere? He’s about this tall,” she held out her hand above her head, indicating Mickey’s approximate height, “black hair, and the most _gorgeous_ blue eyes you’ve ever seen.”

Ian swiveled on his stool to look at the girl. She had light brown hair that was cropped in a short bob, with overdone makeup and an obvious spray-tan. She looked to be somewhere in her early twenties. Ian hazarded a glance towards Mickey, who shook his head in a desperate but silent plea.

“I met him at the wedding and I was hoping to get lucky tonight,” she went on, as if she and Ian were old girlfriends. “Nothing like a strong bad-boy to give it to me good,” she added, clearly drunk to the point of losing her brain-to-mouth filter. Ian nearly choked on his drink at her words.

“Haven’t seen him,” Ian told her, and received a frown in return.

“Oh damn. Well, that’s a shame.” She hopped up onto the stool beside Ian. “Well, at least we can be alone and miserable together,” she said happily.

“Actually, I’m…” Ian started, but when he looked towards where Mickey had been hiding a moment earlier, he realized the brunet had managed to sneak away. “Yeah, sure,” he said to the girl, and resigned himself to having a drink with her.

After maybe ten minutes of listening to her go on and on about her most recent failed attempts at getting laid, their mainly one-sided conversation was interrupted by the bartender.

“Mr. Gallagher?” the bartender asked, eyeing him and the girl.

“Yes?” Ian answered, both startled and confused.

“Your boyfriend just called the bar. Says he’s waiting for you in room 614.”

“My… boyfriend?”

“Right, sir,” the bartender said. “In room 614.”

“Boyfriend?” the girl asked. “Well, why didn’t you _say_ something?” she demanded, looking very disappointed by yet another failed hook-up attempt.

Ian could only shrug. He got out of the bar as quickly as possible and made his way up to the sixth floor to thank Mickey for the save. It was only when he got to the right room number and stood in front of the door that his nerves got to him again. It had only just occurred to him that he was heading to Mickey’s _hotel room_. He hesitated while it sank in and reluctantly knocked on the door with a slightly shaking hand.

It was whipped open before he even finished knocking. “Took you long enough,” Mickey huffed, looking up and down the hallway nervously. He grabbed Ian by his tie and violently pulled him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “Did she follow you?”

Ian just shook his head, dazed from how quickly he’d been yanked into the room. He reached a hand up and loosened Mickey’s grip off of his tie, not failing to notice the knuckle tattoos on the brunet’s fingers. Mickey took a small step back, then smoothed out Ian’s tie for him.

“There we go. No harm, no foul, right? Thanks for saving me from that skank. She’d been all over me since the ceremony…”

Ian cleared his throat. “No problem. You returned the favor, after all. So, uh… you told the bartender I was your boyfriend…?”

Mickey groaned. “You wanna chit-chat some more, or you wanna get on me?”

Ian didn’t need to be asked twice.

When he woke up the next morning due to his growling stomach, there was a note on the table that said the room was paid for until noon, so he could take his time. He felt a small pang of disappointment, but then noticed the tray of croissants and fruit on the small table at the other side of the room and forgot about the fact that he hadn’t even gotten Mickey’s phone number.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_Please join us in celebrating the union of Fiona Gallagher and Jimmy Lishman on the Third Day of October at 5PM at the Millennium Knickerbocker Hotel._

It was no surprise that they were running late… again. It seemed to be a new Gallagher family trait. On the plus side, the wedding couldn’t exactly start without Fiona there, and since she was currently having her makeup put on by Veronica in the middle of the kitchen, Ian didn’t feel _too_ bad about not knowing where the fuck his tuxedo jacket was.

He was currently standing in front of the mirror of their first floor bathroom, attempting to put on his tie in the tiny, cramped space, because Debbie had commandeered the bathroom upstairs. His fingers were busily looping the tie in and out, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the last wedding he’d been to. Ian had never connected with anyone like he had with Mickey that night, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the mindblowing sex they’d had, despite the constant teasing from Lip.

“I can’t believe we’re so late…” he heard Fiona mutter. He turned to look at her and saw that she was sitting as still as a stone, being careful not to move too much so that Veronica wouldn’t yell at her again.

“Relax, hun. You waited for him for six years. I don’t think he has any right to complain!” Veronica said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you guys are finally getting married for real,” Lip said, coming down the stairs with his and Ian’s jackets. “Well, not entirely, since it’s not in a church,” he added, handing Ian one of the jackets.

“Shut up,” Fiona huffed under her breath. “We tried, but the priest wouldn’t let us do it at the church without a proper marriage license.”

“Sounds familiar,” Veronica said bitterly.

The sound of the front door opening distracted everyone from their conversation. “I can’t believe you guys aren’t ready yet!” Kev shouted from the living room. “I’ve been talking to the limo driver for almost an hour now! Where the hell is everyone?”

Gallaghers started appearing from everywhere. Carl came out from underneath the staircase, already dressed in his suit, but with his tie wrapped around his head. He pushed past Kev and ran out to the limo. Next was Debbie with a dapper-looking Liam in her arms, coming down the stairs. Even though their youngest brother was already in first grade, he still preferred to be carried around. Debbie stopped at the foot of the stairs to put on her silver platform pumps which matched the fitted dress she was wearing, before following Carl in the direction of their limo.

“Seriously, Vee? How are you not done with that yet?” Kevin griped from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.

“This is her _wedding day_ , and makeup is an artform. It has to be perfect,” she answered back.

“Yeah, otherwise Jimmy might take one look at her and run in the other direction,” Lip supplied.

He received a smack upside the head from Vee in response. “Get in the limo, wise-ass. We’ll be out in ten minutes. All that’s left is the veil.”

Ian, Lip and Kevin made their way to the limousine and Fiona and Veronica joined them twenty minutes later.

The drive to the hotel didn’t take long. The whole thing was being held at the Millenium Knickerbocker Hotel, thanks to Jimmy’s mom. She had gladly sold a few fancy paintings in order to pay for the whole thing, including rooms for all of them for the night, knowing how much it would hurt her ex-husband when he found out about the sale of his precious antiques.

The ceremony was short and sweet, which was good because Ian couldn’t take his eyes off of his sister. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her so happy, and he knew that he would have become a blubbering mess just like Debbie if he broke his stare for even a moment.

Since the wedding wasn’t in a church, Fiona and Jimmy had decided to write their own vows. All of their friends and family got a huge laugh out of Fiona calling Jimmy “Steve”, then correcting it to “Jack”, and finally settling on “Jimmy” again.

Afterwards, the rest of the guests headed into a smaller room for the cocktail hour while the main family went to the rooftop terrace to take pictures, with the Chicago skyline as their backdrop, until rejoining the other guests in the ballroom to await the entrance of Jimmy and Fiona as husband and wife.

Thankfully, Fiona had been able to convince Jimmy’s mom that a live band wasn’t necessary, so they gotten a kick-ass DJ from the club Fiona used to work at to be in charge of the music. The reception was off to a great start, with everyone happily dancing the night away.

Ian didn’t even have a chance to look around until after the first course had been served. That was when he noticed Mickey sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room, and did a double-take. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him, because there was no other logical explanation for Mickey Milkovich to be at his sister’s wedding.

He got up as soon as the dance music started up again and headed over to talk to his former one-night-stand. “You’re here,” he said, tapping on Mickey’s shoulder.

The brunet turned around calmly. “In the flesh…”

Ian had so many questions, but had no idea where to start. He picked the one that had been on his mind for the last three months. “Why did you leave without‒”

He was cut off by Fiona pulling at his arm. “How ‘bout a dance with your big sister? Debbie’s got Jimmy busy,” she told him, pointing at the pair on the dance floor.

Ian gave her a smile but then flashed a nervous look at Mickey. “Don’t disappear again. I’ll be right back,” he told him, before following his sister to the center of the ballroom. When the dance was over, he looked at Mickey’s table again but the brunet was gone. Ian worriedly looked around the ballroom again until he spotted Mickey standing in the line for the open bar.

Ian made a beeline right to him. “Sorry, can’t say no to Fiona today… not that she lets me get away with it on any _other_ day, either…” His voice trailed lower and lower when he realized that Mickey was only half listening to him, the rest of his attention on the guy in line beside him.

“Oh, Ian. This is my friend Chris. Chris, this is Ian, one of Fiona’s brothers.”

The guy, Chris, let out a chuckle and smiled at Mickey. “Yeah, ‘friend’,” he said, making air-quotes with his fingers before sticking a hand out to shake with Ian. It left Ian feeling more than a little dumbfounded. In any other situation, he would have taken Chris’ reaction to mean that they were _more_ that friends, as in _boyfriends_ , but Mickey hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend when they had met. In fact, he didn’t strike Ian as the “boyfriend” type.

Any hope Ian may have had was quelled the moment he saw Chris place his hand in the small of Mickey’s back, and then saw Mickey give him a small smile in return. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Ian!” Jimmy said, throwing an arm around the redhead’s shoulder. “I see you’ve met Mickey and Chris. Having fun?” he asked them.

Ian looked from his new brother-in-law to Mickey and back. “How do you guys know each other?” he wondered. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Mickey might have been a guest on the groom’s side.

“Mickey here helped me unload some ‒ uh, merchandise ‒ when I came back to Chicago. My old contacts didn’t want to deal with me anymore, but he was more than willing.”

“Hard to turn down a good opportunity,” Mickey explained while Chris nodded in agreement.

“Oh hey, did Mandy make it tonight?” Jimmy wondered.

“Mandy?” Ian asked, feeling completely out of the loop.

“Mickey's sister,” Chris informed him, before telling Jimmy, “yeah, she's out on the dance floor somewhere, I think.”

Ian had to look away. It was yet another reminder that he knew nothing about the Milkovich he'd been thinking about non-stop since the last wedding. Seeing Mickey with his _boyfriend_ in what seemed to be a perfectly normal, supportive relationship made him want to run in the opposite direction…

...and that was exactly what he did at the first opportunity. As soon as Jimmy went off to talk to some other guests, he excused himself and retreated back to the dias. Ian spent the rest of the night uncomfortably making sure he did _not_ stare at Mickey. He smiled when he was supposed to and made small talk with his siblings, but he was miserable. It felt like he was at the wedding from hell. He decided to drown his sorrows in vodka, eventually just swiping the bottle from behind the bar when he saw Mickey and Chris leave the ballroom together. How fucking perfect.

Ian was sitting in one of the couches on the balcony level of the ballroom and only had about a fifth of the bottle left when Ned made eye contact with him from the floor below. They had broken off their relationship or whatever after Jimmy and Fiona had found out about them, and hadn’t really talked much in the years since his divorce, save for a few polite remarks at family function. The look Ned was flashing him now was one that Ian recognized, and one that he definitely was not up for dealing with. He went to the lobby and got his room number from the front desk before taking the elevator up to the right floor. He fumbled with the key card until the little light on the lock turned green and he was able to slip in. He sat on the bed in the dark, bottle of vodka still in hand, when he heard someone trying to open the door. Thinking Ned had managed to follow him, Ian quickly slipped into the bathroom.

Only it wasn’t Ned; it was Lip, with whichever girl he had managed to convince to join him this time, and they were already at it before Ian figured out he should have just walked out of the room when he had the chance. Instead, he quietly sat in the bathroom and endured the sounds of his brother having drunken sex, while he slowly killed off whatever alcohol remained in the bottle.

After about twenty minutes, he stood and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a fucking ghost. It reminded him of what he’d looked like before he’d been diagnosed with bipolar disorder… before the meds and the therapy. He hated himself for letting his jealousy affect him like this. The logical part of his brain told him he had absolutely no right to get this jealous in the first place. He and Mickey had only hooked up the one time, and like Lip had said so many times in the past, “what happens at a wedding stays at a wedding.”

He decided he needed another drink. He opened the bathroom door without thinking and the black-haired girl Lip was with let out a gasp at his sudden appearance. She jumped off of Lip and pulled the sheet up, covering herself as best as she could, before glaring at Ian and practically hissing, “get the fuck out, you perv!”

“Sorry…” Ian muttered while poorly stifling a laugh. He was actually impressed that Lip had managed to find someone with as much attitude as him. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” he said to his brother. As he closed the door, he couldn’t help seeing the smile Lip and the girl with the bangs shared before she climbed back on top of him.

Ian headed back down to the reception but before he could swipe another bottle from the bar, he was cornered by Ned.

“ _There’s_ my favorite ginger,” the doctor said, moving closer so that Ian was forced back against the wall. They were close enough that Ian could smell the whiskey on Ned’s breath, but they were hidden from the rest of the guests by a thick pillar, as well as the darkness the balcony above them provided. Ned looked around and, when he thought the coast was clear, put a hand on Ian’s forearm. Ian felt like his skin was crawling, but still didn’t try to shake him off.

“How ‘bout we go up to my room?” Ned suggested with a lewd grin. “You know, for old time’s sake?”

Someone behind them cleared his throat, and both Ian and Ned turned to see Mickey standing there, arms crossed.

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian said, startled. “What the hell you doing here?”

“Ah, Jimmy’s partner, right?” Ned asked. He looked at the expression on Mickey’s face and then to Ian, and must have seen something there that Ian didn’t want him to see, because he let out a low laugh and shook his head. “Oh, come on, Ian, don't be rude. Invite your friend back to my room. I mean, the more the merrier, right?” he asked, still grinning.

“I'm sorry,” Mickey said, also laughing. “What'd you just say, faggot?”

“What?” Ned asked, confused.

Ian could see where this was headed. “Oh, Jesus, Mickey,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t make this a big deal. It’s not that serious.” He didn’t want the situation to escalate, especially not in front of their families.

But Mickey wasn’t having any of it. “What the fuck did you say to me, you fucking perv’?” He leaned his head back and swing it forward at the drunken man who was too intoxicated to react in time. Mickey’s headbutt connected squarely with Ned’s forehead, and he fell to the ground, completely stunned. Mickey proceeded in his attack, kicking Ned in the gut while he lay on the floor, in the shadows of the ballroom, curling in on himself.

“Enough,” Ian pleaded, to no avail. He watched Mickey get a few more kicks in. “Enough!” he finally shouted, punching Mickey in his windpipe to get him to stop his assault on Ned.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey choked.

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian muttered. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see what was happening. He looked around and was relieved that no one had noticed them. He knelt down and looked at Ned, who was already bloody and wheezing. “Are you okay?” he asked, more concerned for his and Mickey’s safety than the old man’s well-being.

Mickey had gotten up and was pulling Ian to his feet. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to Ian.

“Sorry…” Ian said to Ned, false guilt plastered on his face.

“Gallagher!” Mickey called, urging him to follow. Ian obeyed, and they both quickly fled from the ballroom, until they were safely in the elevator bank.

“I thought you and Chris left,” Ian said quietly, once he’d regained his breath.

“Nah. He has work early in the morning tomorrow so I was just gettin’ him into a cab.” The elevator arrived and they got on. “Which floor?” Mickey asked.

“Dunno. Can’t go back to my room. Lip’s got some chick there.”

Mickey bit his lower lip then pressed the button for the ninth floor, and the elevator started moving up.

Ian watched the floor numbers increase as they continued the ride. “You’re staying in the hotel?” he eventually asked.

Mickey shrugged. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t like taking the L back home while drunk in the middle of the night? Plus, I wasn’t ready to leave when Chris was, and I needed a fucking cigarette…”

They got to the ninth floor and Ian followed Mickey to his room. “You can spend the night here,” Mickey told him as he carefully opened the door with his own keycard. He stepped in and motioned for Ian to follow, but the redhead hesitated again, leaning against the door frame.

“What about your _boyfriend_?” Ian asked. The word felt like poison on his lips.

Mickey ignored the question, instead going and grabbing two tiny bottles of alcohol from the mini-fridge. He tossed one to Ian, then twisted the cap off of his own before chugging down the contents. Ian reluctantly moved into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. He leaned back against it and looked up accusingly at Mickey.

“What, you seriously want me to talk about Chris?” Mickey asked him, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cuz right now, there are other things I’d much rather be doing…” He raised an eyebrow and that was all the invitation Ian needed.

Ian was the first to wake up the following morning. He carefully lifted his arm from around Mickey’s waist and sat up, looking around for his clothes. His head was killing him, a relentless reminder of what drinking so much alcohol while on his meds would do to him. He got dressed and quietly slipped out of the room, taking one last look at Mickey, still sleeping peacefully in the large hotel bed, before he closed the door on his guilt. He had no interest in being anyone’s mistress.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_Kindly join us for the wedding uniting Mandy Milkovich and Phillip Gallagher, December 24th at 6 o’clock in the evening at the Canaryville Veterans’ Center. Merriment to follow._

“Are you _sure_ you didn’t knock her up?” Fiona asked, only to receive a bottle of orange juice thrown her way from Lip.

“For the last time, she is _not_ pregnant,” Lip groaned, closing the fridge door. He walked to the counter and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

“What other explanation can there be for _Lip_ _Gallagher_ , infamous bachelor and serial one-night-stander, to be getting hitched with a girl he met less than three months ago?” Ian asked. Lip glared at him and Ian raised his hands in defense, expecting the milk carton to be hurled at him next, but nothing came. He brought his arms down and stared at his brother’s face. Lip was actually smiling.

“Look, I can’t explain it, okay? I just know it’s right,” he said to his siblings.

“But why Christmas Eve?” Debbie complained from her seat at the corner of the table. “It’s in a week. You guys are just assuming we don’t have better things to do?”

“What, you wouldn’t be spending Christmas Eve at home with us?” Fiona demanded. Debbie frowned but didn’t answer. She had changed a lot from the family-loving pre-teen she’d been back in the day, and sometimes seeing her so grown-up was still a shock to them.

“Mandy hasn’t exactly had a lot of “good” Christmases in the past. I wanted to give her some happy memories to associate with this time of the year,” Lip explained. “Plus, I’m only in Chicago for two weeks, and we wanted to do it here instead of in New York.”

“This is so unfair,” Debbie sighed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You mean we could’a had a vacation to New York City?”

“Debs,” Fiona chided, giving their little sister a sidelong glance. Debbie huffed again but relented and went back to eating her breakfast.

“Who _are_ you and what have you done with my brother?” Ian pressed, shaking his head. “Seriously…” Lip had always been the one in their family who was the most pessimistic about the institution of marriage.

“Come on, guys. I think it’s sweet,” Jimmy said, grabbing Fiona’s coffee mug out of her hand and taking a sip.

“Of course you would,” Fiona teased, grabbing the mug back.

“Hey, is she really having Mickey be her maid of honor?” Jimmy asked, and Ian choked on his own coffee. His brother had only announced the wedding the night before, when he’d given them the hastily prepared invitations, and in that time, Ian hadn’t made the connection between Mandy being the bride-to-be and Mickey being present at the wedding.

“Yeah, but she’s not calling him that, and I’d advise you not to, either… not if you want to stay alive. He’s her ‘best man’. Which reminds me: Ian! You and Mickey are meeting today at the tuxedo rental store. I’ll text you the address later.”

Ian would have protested, but he couldn’t think of anything to actually complain about. This was Lip’s wedding, and for all Ian could tell, his brother was happy. Who was he to stand in the way of that, just because he didn’t want to be around Mickey?

The Gallaghers (and Jimmy, who was an honorary Gallagher now) finished their breakfast quietly and without major incident ‒ which was quite rare for them ‒ and went about their days, leaving Ian sitting at the table hopelessly obsessing over the inevitably awkward appointment with Mickey.

He got to the rental store early but decided to wait for Mickey to arrive before going in, distracting himself by playing with his phone while leaning against the wall of the store. He didn’t notice Mickey until the brunet was standing just a few feet ahead of him, clearing his throat just like he had done at Fiona’s wedding, to get Ned’s attention.

“Hey,” he said, once Ian had looked up. Mickey looked perfect. Even all bundled up in a heavy coat and beanie, his tight jeans drew Ian’s eyes right to his round butt. The redhead had to force himself to look away before he did something stupid like lick his lips.

“Hi,” he casually replied. Yeah, _totally_ not awkward…

“So?” We goin’ in?” Mickey asked.

Ian pushed off the wall and followed Mickey in. The heat of the place was overwhelming compared to the sub-zero Chicago temperature outside. Ian shrugged out of his heavy winter coat and slung it over his shoulder while Mickey slipped his hat off then hurriedly fixed his hair. The tailor greeted them and showed them where to leave their coats so that he could take their measurements. Ian kept quiet but watched Mickey the entire time, stifling a smile when the brunet glared at the tailor like he was going to stab him if he made a wrong move while wrapping his little measuring tape around Mickey’s waist. The old man finished and handed them a bunch of things to try on.  

“Are we just not gonna talk from now on?” Mickey sneered as they walked into the fitting rooms.

“What?” Ian asked, caught off guard. He’d been about to walk into his room when Mickey had spoken, so he leaned back out and looked at the older man. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s gonna make for one hell of an awkward wedding,” Mickey added, still frowning. “I mean, I don’t really give a shit about Lip, but I want the day to be perfect for my sister. She’s the only one I got.

Ian hadn’t meant to give Mickey the silent treatment. “No… no, it’s not that,” Ian explained. “I just… I don’t really know what to say. Sorry.” It was a fucked up situation and he felt like he was only making it worse. It wasn’t his fault… not exactly. Mickey had been the one to come on to _him_ both times, after all, but that didn’t stop Ian from feeling guilty for cheating.

Mickey just huffed in response to Ian’s half-assed apology and went into his fitting room, so Ian also went into his and closed the door.

The tuxedo he was given to try on looked like absolute crap on him. He knew he was above average height, but the tux looked to be about six inches too short, and made for someone who weighed at least fifty pounds more than him. Ian groaned as he stepped out of the room and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

“Hah!” Mickey’s voice came from behind him.

“I think this tailor might be on crack. What was the point of measuring us?” Ian complained, looking around for the man.

“Oh, come on, Gallagher. It ain’t that bad.”

Ian rolled his eyes at Mickey. “Yeah it is. The tuxedos that Jimmy’s mom paid for were like they were made out of gold compared to this crap,” he said, running his hands down the coarse fabric.

“Whatever man,” Mickey said. “It’s better than the tux I rented for _my_ wedding.”

Ian nearly choked out of surprise. He spun around to face Mickey. “Your… your _what_?”

“My wedding,” Mickey repeated nonchalantly.

“You’re married?” Ian sputtered. “To who? Chris?”

Mickey shook his head with a laugh.

“Who then?” Ian demanded hotly, not caring about how pushy he was being. “Who is he?”

Mickey made a face. “No, I’m not married… at least, not anymore,” he explained. “And ‘he’ isn’t a ‘he’,” he went on. Ian must have looked horrified because Mickey grimaced. “Don’t gimme that look. I didn’t marry a tranny.”

Mickey buttoned his jacket and looked at his own reflection in the long mirror. He couldn’t have looked bad in the tux even if he had tried.

“You can’t leave it at that. Explain, now,” Ian ordered.

Mickey let out a little laugh. “It’s not an interesting story. My dad made me marry this chick ‒ some Russian hooker ‒ a few years back. I had it annulled right after he went back to prison for good. Thank fucking God we didn’t have any kids, or it would have complicated shit.”

“But… why?” Ian wondered. “Why marry a girl if you’re gay?”

Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “Guess he wanted to prove to his friends that his son was normal... Straight and normal. Whatever. Like I said, not that interesting.” Even though Mickey was still smiling, Ian thought he could see something else in his eyes, something cold and icy where he normally saw a bright, blue warmth.

The tailor returned and finished taking his additional measurements. The second tux Ian tried on fit much better, and they finished up soon after that. Ian had no plans for the rest of the afternoon, so he ended up following Mickey around for hours on whatever errands Mandy had put him up to as her best man. She was even perfectly happy letting him plan her bachelorette party.

“I still can’t believe my brother’s marrying your sister in a week and I haven’t even talked to her for more than a few minutes,” Ian said to Mickey as they rode the L back home. “I’m sure she must have been in some of my classes in high school, but we just never met. It’s surreal.”

“Yeah well I can’t believe my sister’s moving to New York in a week,” Mickey muttered from his seat across from Ian. Even though it was already dark outside, Ian could see from the light in the train car that he was frowning, and the expression caused his brows to knit together with deep lines on his forehead. “Mandy and I have always stuck together. It feels wrong to be losing her to some fucker I used to deal to.”

“You don’t have to worry about her, you know,” Ian told him. “My brother’s been with a _lot_ of girls, but Mandy’s different.” He noticed Mickey’s fists clench at the mention of Lip’s track record and backtracked. “What I mean is, the other girls didn’t matter. They were just one night stands. But I can see how he talks about Mandy, and I know that she’s special to him. She’s not just another fling. She _matters_ , and I know he won’t hurt her. It’s just... different.”

Different, like how he felt about Mickey… but he kept his mouth shut. His words seemed to placate Mickey, at least for the time being.

They rode the last few stops in silence. The train creaked to a stop at their station and they hurried off the platform and down the stairs to the street level.

“I’m that way,” Mickey said, motioning behind him.

Ian nodded. This was the moment they had to part.

“I wish you’d called me after the first wedding,” Ian said, the words coming out before his brain could do anything to stop them.

“You didn’t exactly call me either,” Mickey countered.

An awkward silence fell. Neither man spoke, but they lingered for a long minute.

“See you in a couple of days,” Mickey eventually said, turning to walk towards his house.

Ian did the same, even making it to the end of the block before stopping. There was so much left unsaid; so many feelings pushing forward, each fighting to be the first to get attention. He ran back in Mickey’s direction and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. They stared at each other, Ian looking into Mickey’s eyes with a hunger. He wanted him so badly, and when he saw that hunger mirrored in Mickey’s expression, it was all the encouragement he needed.

He moved one hand to the back of Mickey’s neck and his other wrapped around the brunet to pull him closer. He pressed his lips to Mickey’s and was surprised by their soft warmth against his. Mickey exhaled and Ian used the opportunity to deepen their kiss, slipping his tongue into the older man’s mouth. He felt Mickey run his own hands through his hair, grabbing at the long, red strands as if they were the only things keeping him on the ground.

Their bodies were pressed together, Ian’s arms still wrapped tightly around Mickey’s holding him close. Mickey ran his tongue along his and Ian shivered ‒ not because of the cold, but because of how perfect it felt. This was right. This was where he was supposed to be.

Mickey pulled back then. He pressed a hand against Ian’s chest, forcing some distance between them. He shook his head and looked away.

Ian felt like his world was crashing down around him, and he was helpless to stop it. He tried to pull Mickey closer but the shorter man pushed back again.

“Don’t,” he whispered, before turning away from Ian and walking back home.

~ ~ ~

_One week later, Christmas Eve_

Ian was determined not to let his issues with Mickey ruin his big brother’s wedding. Their families were all at the hall, waiting for the ceremony to get underway, including Chris, who kept waving at Mickey from the bride's side of the room.

Ian and Mickey stood waiting near the entrance, each in their respectively rented tux, looking anywhere but at each other. Ian was desperately trying to ignore the jealousy and guilt he felt inside him each time he noticed Mickey's boyfriend.

“Where the hell are they?” Debbie asked, leaving her seat to come check the hallway.

“I have no idea,” Ian told her with a shrug. “He insisted on driving here alone.”

“Lip and that ridiculous car of his…” she groaned. “Well, maybe someone should go look for him?” she suggested, exasperated.

Ian looked around for Fiona but she was busy trying to keep Liam and Carl from raiding the buffet tables. “Okay, I'll go,” he agreed reluctantly.

“No, it's fine. I got this,” Mickey said, having clearly overheard their conversation. “Mandy’s missing too.”

“No, I said I'd go,” Ian insisted.

“How ‘bout you both go?” Debbie said, cutting them off.

They combed through the rooms of the Veterans' Center to no avail. The top floor was just offices and it was completely empty. It would have been the perfect place for them to get away with a quickie. He could already imagine himself tearing off Mickey’s clothes, turning him around and running his hands down his soft, pale skin…

“This is a waste of time. They ain’t here,” Mickey huffed, cutting off Ian’s train of thought, When they returned to the main floor, Mickey checked the bathrooms while Ian went into the other two hall.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” Mickey said to him once they met back near the entrance. He shoved the door open angrily and walked a few feet from the building before lighting up. It had started snowing early in the morning, but the little flurries that whirled around were melting before hitting the ground. “I can't believe Mandy would pull this shit after driving me crazy about the wedding for the last week.”

Ian walked closer to Mickey, thankful for the warmth the thick tuxedo provided. He looked at Mickey questioningly. “You think they eloped or something?”

“You got a better idea?” Mickey asked with a raised eyebrow.

The infamous eyebrow raise… It made Ian want to reach for Mickey’s face, to smooth away the worries, but he fought the crazy urge. “I think we should keep looking,” he offered instead. “Lip wouldn't make all these plans and then flake on Christmas Eve. Wasn't there a basement here?”

Mickey shrugged, tossed his half-smoked cigarette aside and followed Ian back inside. They found a staircase and went down to the basement, but could hear the sounds before they even opened the door – sounds that Ian was all-too familiar with thanks to the previous time he’d had to endure them.

Ian stuck a hand out and grabbed Mickey before the older man could exit the stairwell. He pointed to his ear and then pointed past the door.

“Oh my _fucking_ God,” Mickey said, catching on. “Are they fucking? _Right here_? Right before the wedding?”

“Yeah, that's it. Ugh, oh yeah. It's so good. You're so fucking perfect,” Lip's voice said. “So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Ian cringed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

“Well fuck that! I'm not standing around here and waiting for your brother to get his rocks off,” Mickey spat, shoving Ian’s hand off of him.

“Ohhhh, Lip. Oh my God. I love you. I love you. Right there. Yeah, yeah, yeah... Uhhhh.”

“Sounds like Lip's not the only one having fun,” Ian teased. “Mickey made a disgusted face at hearing his sister's sex-talk.”

“Don't worry; they're almost done,” Ian assured him.

Mickey quirked up both eyebrows. “How the fuck would you know that?”

Ian tried not to laugh when he explained himself. “You remember at my sister's wedding, how I couldn't go back to my room because Lip had a girl there? Well, it was Mandy. They only start talking during sex when they're close to finishing.”

Sure enough, the volume of Lip and Mandy's moaning and panting soon climaxed, and they gave their siblings a couple of minutes to get decent before busting through the door.

“Jesus, avoiding your own wedding, Lip? You're really trying to make this whole Gallagher lateness trend stick, aren't you?” Ian said sarcastically.

“No one will give a shit,” Mandy confidently told them as Lip zipped up the back of her dress. “The bar's been open for an hour already.”

Mickey huffed in annoyance. “Can we get this show on the road?”

Lip walked past him and patted him on the shoulder on his way to the staircase door. “So eager to give your sister away?” he teased, but eased off after Mickey's answering scowl.

Ian followed Lip to the door, but not before noticing the tender way Mickey took his sister's hand to escort her upstairs and down the aisle.

The ceremony was short and sweet. The pastor they hired cut right to the chase, not wasting any time with all that frilly, wordy wedding nonsense. Lip and Mandy promised to love, honor and comfort each other, in sickness and in health, in times of sorrow and times of celebration, until the end of their days. It was the least religious wedding Ian had ever been to.

The chairs were cleared away right after the ceremony so that the party could get underway. The reception was a veritable Christmas feast, from the turkey carving station to the bottomless eggnog – which was keeping Frank more than happy. They even had gingerbread men on top of the cake instead of those traditional plastic figurines.

Lip and Mandy looked so happy. They didn't stop dancing even for a second. The kids were having a lot of fun too. Liam had put away his Nintendo DS and was on the dance floor between Fiona and Jimmy. Debbie was talking to one of the other Milkovich brothers (they'd have to put a stop to _that_ later) and Carl was spending all of his energy on trying to convince one of Mandy's girlfriends to dance with him.

Ian was so busy concentrating on putting up a happy front for his family and pretending he didn't see the way Mickey and Chris were smiling at each other while eating or dancing that he didn't notice Derek until the man was standing just two feet across from him.

“Hey there, soldier boy,” the older man said to him, flashing a toothy grin. “Long time no see.”

That was the biggest understatement of the century. Ian hadn't seen Derek since he and Lip had finished high school. His brother had gotten the crazy idea of running an underground fight club of sorts, and Derek had been their “medic”. (He’d been a med student at the time, looking to earn a bit of cash on the side, so it’d been a win-win arrangement for all of them.)

“Derek,” Ian said, not quite smiling back. “Didn’t know you and Lip were still close…”

“We keep in touch,” Derek replied. “Enough that he keeps me posted about his life. Heard you decided not to enlist.”

“Wasn’t so much of a decision, really,” Ian said with a frown. “The army doesn’t let anyone enlist if they require daily medication. ‘God forbid some psycho goes off his meds for a few days and goes crazy out in the desert somewhere, shooting up innocent people for no reason...’” he continued, quoting the recruiter who had so ignorantly turned him away when he’d finally turned eighteen. As if all mental disorders were the same, and as if going off his meds would immediately turn him into a crazy person… Ian was still bitter about it, but changing people’s uneducated preconceptions about bipolar disorder was not a battle easily won. “But you would know that already, right? I mean, you should be a ‘ _real_ ’ doctor by now.”

The hostility in his voice was palpable, and Derek definitely picked up on it, because his smile slipped away pretty quickly after Ian finished talking. “Yeah… internal medicine. Couple of years now…”

“And how are the wife and kids?” Ian wondered with a sneer.

“They’re good. Happy. Living in California now,” Derek told him, and Ian detected sadness in his voice.

“California?”

“I told her the truth two years ago. Met someone and thought it was the real deal. Didn’t want to keep lying to her, or to my kids, so I came clean and told her I was gay. We separated, and the divorce was finalized six months ago,” Derek explained. “She met someone else and he was from L.A., so she moved there to be with him. The kids are really happy. Andy loves being surrounded by cute surfer boys; says I’d love it there. She’s probably right…”

Ian’s jaw hung open slightly. Never in a million years would he have expected Derek to have come out to his wife. Ian had spent almost a year hooking up with the older man, being his dirty, little secret… It was a lot to take in.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said to him, surprising Ian even more. He reached a hand out towards Ian but then changed his mind and dropped it. “I was an asshole. It was wrong of me to get involved with you when you were so young, and it was wrong of me to force you to keep it a secret, especially from Lip.”

Ian didn’t even know how to answer him. He’d been in way too many relationships with older, married men during his teens, and at the time had thought he’d been old enough and mature enough to enter into them of his own free will, but in hindsight, he hadn’t been.

Derek watched Ian closely and when the redhead continued not responding, flashed him that same, toothy grin again. “If you're not busy, maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Catch up?”

“Umm…” Ian stole a glance at Mickey, who was talking to Mandy with Chris right by his side. He felt like screaming at himself. Mickey was taken, and it was time for Ian to move on. Maybe a hook-up with Derek was exactly what he needed to get the dark-haired thug out of his system...

There was a loud crashing sound and everyone turned to look at the source of the noise. By the time Ian figured out what had happened, there was already a crowd gathered in the corner of the dance floor. Completely forgetting about Derek, Ian shuffled over to where all the commotion was taking place. His dad was lying on the floor, unconscious and covered in eggnog.

Of course Frank would overdo it at Lip's wedding. Ian shook his head in disappointment and started walking away. Over the years, all of the Gallagher kids had learned that the best way to deal with Frank was to ignore him.

“Holy shit,” came a startled gasp. It sounded like Fiona. Ian turned back around and saw his sister crouched on the ground beside their father. “He isn't breathing!” she said, two fingers pressed under Frank’s throat, checking for a pulse. Ian felt a tug on his tuxedo pants and looked down to see Liam hiding behind his leg. He reached down and picked up his little brother.

“Jimmy, call an ambulance!” Fiona shouted, just as the DJ cut the music. Her words echoed in the now-silent hall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

_Frank Gallagher: Loving Husband, Devoted Father_

The funeral was held at the Alibi just a few days after Frank died. It was only fitting, since he'd spent so much time there; the bar had been more of a home to him than their actual house.

The paramedics had guessed that Frank had died of liver failure, and the autopsy had confirmed it. No one was surprised: he'd gone through his own liver and hadn't learned his lesson with the second one.

Lip had decided that he’d said his goodbyes to Frank enough times in the past, and had opted not to cancel his honeymoon. It didn’t surprise anyone that Monica didn’t show up either. The rest of the Gallaghers had dressed in their most somber outfits and had dutifully gone to the Alibi, including Sheila and Sammi.

As Ian walked into the bar, he noticed Mickey and Chris were already inside, having a drink and chatting with Kev. He walked over to greet them and Mickey spotted him as he approached.

“Gallagher. Sorry for your loss,” he said, motioning for Kev to pour Ian a drink. The recycled platitude didn’t make him feel any better. Ian gratefully accepted the glass and tried not to flinch when Chris patted him on the back supportively.

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked Mickey, ignoring both Kev and Chris.

“Mandy felt bad about her and Lip not being here. Asked me to sort of stand in for her… We’re practically family anyway now, right?” he asked Ian with a friendly smile.

“Right…” Ian muttered, the words burning in his chest as much as the whiskey did on its way down his throat. _Practically family_. Yeah, it definitely stung.

He excused himself and wandered around the bar, accepting condolences from the plethora of alcoholics their dad had consorted with on a regular basis. These hopeless people, who had been Frank’s best friends, attempted to offer him comfort with their recollections of Frank’s wild adventures, but all it did was make him feel more bitterness towards his father. If Frank had spent half the energy on being a parent that he’d spent on chasing highs and drenching his insides with alcohol, the Gallaghers’ lives would have been completely different.

Ian eventually found his way to the casket. It was an open one, and Ian slowly inched forward until he could see the body. Frank had been dressed in an actual suit – the same suit he'd been wearing to Lip's wedding, ironically, but thankfully the eggnog stains had been dry-cleaned out. Someone had even spent the time to put a little makeup on his face.

“I think we're gonna start soon,” Fiona said, coming to stand beside him. “Can you go check if Debs is ready?” she asked him.

“Okay,” he replied, and went to look for his younger sister. He found her sitting on a stool at the far corner of the bar, all the way by the pool table.

“I can’t do it,” Debbie said, voice quivering, before he’d even had a chance to tell her they were about to begin. “I thought I’d be okay but I’m not.” She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. “Did you see his face?” she asked, looking up at him with wet eyes.

Ian slowly nodded. It made total sense that Debbie would be so emotional; their sister was always the most sensitive one out of the bunch. “He looks so… cold. So... “ She couldn’t hold it in anymore and the tears began to slide down her face.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry, Debs. I’ll see if Carl wants to say something,” he told her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package of Kleenex he’d forgotten there after his last cold, passing it to her wordlessly.

He walked away to look for Carl when he was sure she would be alright alone. Their younger brother was sitting at a table with Liam and Jimmy. Apparently someone had deemed their dad’s funeral to be an okay exception to the whole gotta-be-twenty-one-to-drink law, because Carl was sporting a pretty tall glass of beer.

“Debbie can’t read Frank’s eulogy. Think you can say something?” Ian asked him, sliding down into the empty seat across from Carl.

Carl made a face and took a sip of his beer. “No.”

“That’s it? Just ‘no’?” He knit his eyebrows together and glared at his brother.

“No thanks?” Carl sassed.

Ian huffed out in annoyance. “Why the heck not? You actually _liked_ Frank,” he reasoned.

Carl shrugged. “Why can’t you get Sammi or Sheila to do it? _They_ liked him too. Or _you_ can do it,” he suggested, before turning his attention back towards Jimmy and Liam.

Ian didn’t even bother answering him. No one trusted what Sheila or Sammi would say, and _he_ sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything; Frank wasn’t even his biological father, and the man had spent most of his life hating him.

He returned to Fiona with the bad news, but thankfully she stepped up. She gave a small speech about their dad, holding back saying anything too truthful, and only tried to mention the good things, however few and far-between they’d been. She told everyone there the story of when Frank won a grand in a bet, back when Debbie and Carl were still really small and Liam wasn’t even born yet, and instead of blowing it on alcohol right away, decided to take his kids out to celebrate. He bought tickets to a circus and even bought them popcorn and more cotton candy than humanly possible to consume, which was why, to this day, Debbie still couldn’t eat cotton candy without getting queasy. When it came time to raise a glass and drink to Frank, Debbie’s crying was drowned out by the cheers and applause.

It got to be too much for Ian. Seeing his sister crying while the rest of the people there laughed and praised Frank’s propensity for drinking ‒ the very thing that killed him… he couldn’t handle it. He threw his jacket over his shoulders and rushed out there as fast as he could.

Once he stood outside and breathed in the fresh albeit cold air, he started feeling better… or at least, less like he was cracking. Less... _crazy_. He saw smoke coming from the side of the bar and decided to see if whoever it was would let him bum a cigarette off of him. Three years of quitting smoking down the drain, but he was fucking stressed and needed one. As he walked closer, he could hear the voices carrying over from around the corner.

“Come on, just a quick one,” he heard someone say.

“Nah, man. It’s a fucking funeral. Have some respect.”

The second voice was Mickey’s. Ian would have recognized it anywhere… which meant the first voice had to belong to Chris. He froze in his tracks, but couldn’t keep from listening.

“I’ll be done before you know it. Come on, let me relieve some of your stress… You’ll thank me for it later.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now? In a dirty alley?”

He heard Chris laugh. It was a stupid laugh… nothing like Mickey’s.

“I thought you liked it dirty…”

Ian felt like he was going to throw up. He spun around and sped off, practically running, in the opposite direction. He pulled his phone out and dialed a number he hadn’t used in years.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Ian.”

Silence, while his words were processed. Then, “Ian? I’m surprised you called. How are you holding up? How was the funeral?”

“It was great. Everyone loved good ol’ Frank Gallagher: loving father, devoted husband. He was a great person. The world won’t be the same without him,” Ian went on, not even thinking about the words rolling out of his mouth.

“Ian…” There was definitely concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”

Ian let out a laugh. Was he okay? He was fucking dandy. “I’m great. Great.”

Then a pause, while he thought of what to say. “Where are you? Do you want me to come and get you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

_Ten months later..._

The alarms went off like bombs, one dropping right after the other. Ian sat up in his bed and looked around to see at least twenty clocks all chiming at the same time. He rubbed his eyes, still confused, when his brother popped his head in.

“Had to make sure you’re not late to your own wedding!” he said with a smirk, slipping back out before the clock Ian threw towards him could do any damage.

Ian sat up and methodically turned off all of the alarms. Lip could be such a fucking dick sometimes, and he was _sure_ Mandy helped him. Once the room was silent, Ian pulled his phone off the charger beside bed. There were two messages sitting in his inbox, and both were from Derek. The first was a text that said good morning with a silly winking emoji, and the second was a video message. He clicked play and watched as Derek and his kids waved into the phone and said hi to him from what was clearly the airport. He quickly shot back a reply and shuffled downstairs to have breakfast with his family.

“Oh good, you’re up!” Mandy said cheerfully when she saw him round the bottom steps.

“As if you had no part in this,” Ian accused, slamming an alarm clock onto the kitchen counter. Mandy let out a little laugh and handed him a plate full of eggs, bacon and toast.

“Derek put us up to it, actually. Said he had to be sure you wouldn’t oversleep,” she explained, but he only half-believed her. Mandy had changed a lot since the last time she and Lip had visited Chicago, and not just because she’d become a blonde. It was almost like she had more confidence in herself… like she’d become happy with life in a way that hadn’t been possible before.

“Yeah, yeah…” he muttered, accepting the breakfast she’d prepared. He slid into one of the unoccupied chairs at the table.

“Stop complaining and eat up,” Fiona ordered. She poured a cup of coffee for him and tried to top off her mug but Jimmy grabbed the pot out of her hand before she could get a drop in.

“No caffeine,” he chastised, pointing to her growing belly. She gave him a rueful smile but relented and let him out the pot back into the machine.

“So everyone knows what time they have to be back home, right?” Fiona asked them, spending particularly long staring down the younger kids. No one answered her. “ _Carl_ …”

Carl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Debs?”

“Home by two,” she groaned, not looking up from her cell phone. “You don’t have to tell us a hundred times.”

“If you’re late to your brother’s wedding, I swear to God-”

“It’s okay, Fi. They’ll be on time,” Ian assured her.

“How the heck are you not more stressed out about today?” his older sister wondered.

“A shitload of drugs,” Ian joked, eliciting laughs from both Mandy and Lip and a frown from his sister. “Seriously though… relax. We don’t have to leave for the church for another six hours. Why don’t you and Jimmy go out? Grab a nice lunch or something? I’ll stay here with Liam.”

“Ian, it’s your wedding day!” Fiona argued.

“Yeah, and I’m a guy. It’s not like I need to get my hair done or anything… Look, Mandy and Lip are going out, Debbie has a lunch date, Carl will be up to his usual mischief… It’s fine,” he explained.

“Where are you guys going?” Fiona wondered, turning to look at Mandy and Lip where they were preparing the last plate of breakfast together.

“Meeting up with Mickey and Iggy for some pizza. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss _real_ pizza…” she started, but Ian had tuned out the rest of her sentence after she mentioned Mickey. He’d spent the last ten months completely ignoring Mandy whenever she talked about her brother.

Ian finished his breakfast and dropped his plate into the sink, then called for Liam to follow him up to their room so that he could get him dressed and take him to the park and kill a few hours.

Anything to keep himself relaxed and stress-free.

~ ~ ~

By some miracle, the Gallaghers got to the church early. Derek called to say that he ran into a delay at the salon he took his daughter to, because Andy insisted on having her hair straightened, but that they would be there soon. Ian and Lip stood in the entrance of the church, handing out the programs and directing people to which side of the church belonged to which groom.

About twenty minutes before the ceremony was set to begin, Mickey walked through the church doors. He took his coat off and Ian noticed he was wearing the same black shirt he’d worn the first time Ian had seen him, rolled up sleeves and all.

Ian didn’t expect to see him. He hadn’t sent him an invitation, but maybe Mandy had… He looked for a way out but Mickey had already spotted him.

“Hey man,” Mickey said, reaching out and actually shaking Ian’s hand. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks…” Ian muttered, keeping his voice calm despite his chest feeling like it was closing in on itself from the tiny bit of contact with the brunet. “So where’s Chris?” he spat, then kicked himself for his lack of control.

“No fucking clue,” Mickey answered with a laugh. He let go of Ian’s hand and grabbed one of the programs from Ian’s other hand. He started walking through to the pews when Ian reached a hand out and stopped him.

“Wait, what? He’s not here?” Ian asked.

“Things didn’t work out,” Mickey said with a little shake of his head, followed by an eyebrow raise. “I thought Mandy told you?”

It was entirely possible that Mandy had told him the news during one of the many conversations where he pretended to be listening to her talk about her brother but really was going through how to assemble an assault rifle in his head. Mickey tried to walk away again but Ian didn’t let go of his grip on the older man’s shirt.

He frowned. trying to comprehend Mickey’s words. “Why…” his voice trailed away and he looked up at Mickey’s eyes. “Why the heck didn’t you call me?” he asked in a whisper.

Mickey shrugged. He reached a hand up and removed Ian’s vice grip off of his shirt. “You were already happy with Derek. Why would I fuck that up for you?” He gave Ian a tight-lipped smile and continued walking inside to take a seat near Mandy.

Ian felt like everything he’d known for nearly the past year was suddenly a lie. He looked around and saw everyone smiling, happily taking their seats in the church and waiting for the ceremony to begin, but all he could feel was the panic setting set in inside of him. Just taking a breath was too much effort. He needed to get away from everyone. He needed to think...

Lip must have noticed something change in Ian’s expression because he dropped the basket of wedding programs and ran behind him. “Ian! Where are you going?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Ian said, not even turning to look at his brother as he rushed off to the small restroom inside the church. He quickly locked the door behind him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he spat, looking at himself in the mirror. It was his wedding day… what the _fuck_ was he thinking?

There was a knock on the door. “It’s me,” Lip said. “You okay?”

“Just a minute,” he said, undoing his bowtie. It was suddenly so fucking hot in there. Ian turned the faucet on and splashed some cold water onto his face.

“Ian, let me in,” Lip demanded. He hesitated for a moment but then reached out and unlocked the door.

Lip didn’t need to ask him what was wrong; it must have been written all over his face. He closed the door and reached out to pass Ian some paper towel to dry his face off.

“It’s not the end of the world…” Lip started.

“It’s not?” Ian responded, running his fingers down his face.

“I mean, the way I see it, you have three choices. One, you can go through with it. Derek’s a nice guy. He’s been good for you.” Lip sighed and leaned back against the door. “Or, two, you can call it off.”

“Derek’ll hate me,” Ian said quietly.

“Yeah, he will. _And_ you’ll feel like crap, but it’s better than going through with a wedding out of guilt, isn’t it?” his brother asked.

“What’s the third option?” Ian wondered.

“I can't exactly think of a third choice, but lists are better in threes, don’t you think?”

Ian laughed in spite of himself.

There was another knock on the door and the priest told them it was crunch time. He pulled out his phone to check the time and saw that there was another message in his inbox from Derek, telling him they’d arrived and that he couldn’t wait to start their next chapter together.

“You’re right,” Ian said, patting Lip on the arm. “Derek’s good for me.” He unlocked the door again and Lip moved to the side to let Ian walk out.

The ceremony began right on schedule. Derek and his kids were beaming, along with all of the Gallaghers. Ian took a look in his fiancé’s brown eyes, looking for reassurance in his decision. Derek’s answering smile was it.

The priest asked if anyone had a reason why Ian and Derek shouldn’t be married. “...speak now or forever hold your peace.” The words echoed in Ian’s head, but he dismissed them. He was making the right choice.

“I have a third option,” Lip said, standing up. Everyone in turned in their pews to face him, the low murmur of shock and gossip already beginning. “I think you should hold off… because I think the groom loves someone else,” Lip said with a sheepish grin.

The priest coughed nervously and looked Ian in the eye. “Is this true?”

Ian looked from the priest to Derek, to his brother, and then finally to Mickey, who was biting his bottom lip between his teeth and looking anywhere but at Ian.

“Yes,” he admitted.

Derek’s daughter ran up to him and kicked his shin with her little heel, but before Ian had time to react, a fist was swung at him, hitting him right between his eyes. He went straight down.

~ ~ ~

Ian woke up with a splitting headache. There was a pounding, aching pain coming from the middle of his forehead.

“Ian’s awake!” Liam shouted from right in front of his face. Ian winced and tried to sink further into the couch, away from the screaming boy.

He eventually opened his eyes and looked around, spotting his family members sitting all around the room. Veronica came closer and held out a finger in front of him. “Follow my finger,” she instructed, moving it from side to side. Ian blinked but obeyed, tracking her long-nailed finger as it moved in front of him.

“He doesn’t look concussed,” she told the others. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy?”

Ian shook his head slowly. He didn’t feel dizzy, despite the pain. “Advil…” he croaked, and was thankful when he felt a glass of water and two cold pills shoved into his hands. He sat up carefully and swallowed the pills.

“What the hell happened?” he asked no one in particular. Half of the Gallaghers burst into laughter while the others groaned in discomfort.

“You seriously don’t remember?” Kev asked him, staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

Ian shook his head again.

“Lip stepped up and outed you to everyone, you got beaten up by a little girl, and then Derek knocked you out.”

He looked at his brother after processing Kevin’s words. Lip was sitting on the armchair in the corner with Mandy on his lap. Ian mouthed a silent “thanks” to him. Lip nodded.

The doorbell rang and Debbie ran to get it. “Ian…” she said, holding the door open. “It’s for you.”

Ian looked over his shoulder and saw that Mickey stood on their stoop, moving nervously from side to side. Ian stood and walked to the front door, telling his family he’d be back.

“Wait a second… It’s Mickey he loves? As in, your _brother_?” he heard Fiona whisper to Mandy from behind him, but chose not to comment. His eyes were locked on Mickey’s, and it was like he was being drawn outside towards the older man like a magnet.

Debbie passed Ian his jacket with an encouraging smile and closed the door behind him after he walked out. Ian pulled it on and wrapped his arms around himself, unsure of what else to do. They wordlessly began walking away from the house, side by side, down the street.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said once they’d gotten to the end of the block, breaking the silence. He looked like he was struggling with how to phrase his next thought… like he was unused to apologies and being honest about his feelings. Ian could definitely relate... “I shouldn’t have come to the wedding. I knew it was a bad idea but… I don’t know. I just felt like I had to.”

There was a clap of thunder and Ian looked up at the dark sky. The clouds were an ominous grey and he thought about what Fiona had told him earlier that morning about rain being good luck on your wedding day. How ironic...

“I didn’t know that you and Chris had broken up. I thought you were happy. I thought I was doing the right thing… letting you be happy,” he explained.

“Ditto,” Mickey said with a nod.

The next thunderclap brought rain with it. A fucking shitload of rain, like someone was standing up above them and pouring literal buckets of icy water down on top of their heads. They were already too far from the house so both men made a run for it, heading towards the cover of the L tracks.

The rain continued falling around them, but they were mostly shielded from it once they made it to the train. Mickey bent over with his arms braced on his knees, heaving in air like there was no tomorrow. Ian was also gasping for breath. His chest hurt and the lack of oxygen was making his forehead throb again. He put a hand up to his brow and cursed.

“He really got you good. That bruise’ll be there for at least a week,” Mickey said with a laugh. “Why didn’t you even try to block him? What happened to all that supposed ROTC training?”

“Shut up. I wasn’t thinking straight…” he reasoned.

Mickey got up and leaned back, resting against one of the large concrete pillars that held the tracks up. “Since when does a faggot like you think straight?” he teased.

They both laughed again and worked on evening out their breathing. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, then realized he was still wearing his tuxedo.

“Fucking weddings… If I have to go to one more of these stupid functions, I’m gonna burn this tux. Can’t they make decent sized pockets?”

Mickey reached into his jacket and passed Ian his box of Marlboros and a lighter. Ian nodded in thanks and lit one up before passing the box back to Mickey. Picking up smoking was one of the best decisions he’d made after Frank’s funeral. Come to think of it, it had been the only good decision he’d made. The smoke felt like heaven as it filled his lungs.

“Fucking weddings…” Mickey repeated, blowing out a puff of smoke. Ian took a few steps closer to Mickey and leaned against the same pillar. Their bodies were flush, connected at the shoulders and hips, despite the height difference. It felt right. It felt like things had fallen into place. He chanced a look to the side, and saw Mickey smiling, confirming his own thoughts.

“Would you consider,” Ian began, straining to look Mickey in the eye from their angle, “after we dry off, of course... never marrying me?” Mickey huffed out a small laugh before Ian continued, “And is never marrying me something you'd consider doing for the rest of your life?”

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Mickey told him, shaking his head.

“Maybe…” Ian conceded. “But am I your dork?”

Mickey turned to the side and laughed again, then stood on his tippy toes and gave Ian a deep, long kiss. He didn’t need to say anything else; Ian already knew his answer.


End file.
